


a cat in the blue

by sandpapersnowman



Series: a cat in the blue [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: A little, Accidental Voyeurism, Anonymous Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Daydreaming, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Exhibitionism, Glory Hole, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, One-Sided Relationship, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other: See Story Notes, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Public Blow Jobs, Public Masturbation, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Stalking, Supernatural Elements, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, background pining mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/pseuds/sandpapersnowman
Summary: Elias hadn’t meant to intrude. He's made it a habit of checking in on his employees after hours, out of curiosity just as much as boredom. They're usually sleeping, or eating, or watching things on screens that Elias is uninterested in.———Martin found the glory hole on accident.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard
Series: a cat in the blue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868290
Comments: 73
Kudos: 246





	1. star of the masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this periodically for the last like... year ?? ish?? i started this last july and have been Incredibly secretive about it because i wasn't honestly sure if i'd end up posting it, but. Fuck It. Martin Time! this was going to be some kind of 5+1, but i think its just gonna be..... Some Wildness split between elias and martin POVs
> 
>  **please heed the content tags!!** elias is,, very in-character being manipulative and a bastard, and if you'd like specific warnings or have questions about what will be featured, send me an ask over on tumblr or leave a comment on this chapter! this first chapter will be explicit but not into the elias fuckery yet, while the second chapter going up immediately after WILL feature elias fuckery and establish the general idea of where this fic is going
> 
> title is from [Holy Diver](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/dio/holydiver.html) by Dio

Martin found the glory hole on accident.

He'd closed himself in a stall to take a break from the music and the crowd in the kind-of-out-of-town bar he was scouting out, and he didn't notice the hole cut into the wall until someone on the other side was already putting their cock through.

As much as his mouth waters at the idea, getting to hear someone pant and moan because of _him_ , he's not wreckless enough to have anonymous, unprotected sex through a glory hole.

He puts a condom on it first.

The taste of latex is unfortunate, but the guy on the other side is the first encounter of the intimate kind he’s had in a _while_. His breath shudders when Martin makes pleased noises around his cock, and calls him _baby_ when Martin swallows back drool, which is — God, it’s really good, even if the guy doesn’t stick around to make sure Martin cums, too. Maybe that’s just glory hole etiquette, though, he doesn’t know.

He jerks himself off onto the floor after the man leaves and the bathroom goes quiet, and the disgust and shame of cleaning his own mess off the tiles is nothing compared to the sated hum under his skin.


	2. eyes of a cat

Elias hadn’t meant to intrude. He's made it a habit of checking in on his employees after hours, out of curiosity just as much as boredom. They're usually sleeping, or eating, or watching things on screens that Elias is uninterested in.

It's all mundane. The most un-ordinary thing he's Seen recently was Jon making an attempt to cook and then ordering delivery instead.

Then there was... Martin. Martin, on his knees with a stranger's cock down his throat, rubbing his own hand between his legs to ease the pressure but unable to coordinate his fingers to properly get his dick out.

It was startling. All of these quiet evenings over books and cell phones, and there was Martin, seemingly broadcasting his want directly into Elias's gut. _Martin_ , with his jumpers and subdued print shirts and stuttering apologies for existing, mentally begging a stranger to push their boot under the wall and make him cum under his sole like that, desecrated and desperate. 

He's caught glimpses before, on accident, of Martin's fantasies. The man has a crush the size of a planet on their resident archivist, and once in a while Elias might be subjected to an elaborate daydream about taking Jon out for coffee and going back to his flat for confessions and kissing and sex. Martin imagines Jon's home to be much tidier than it is, besides the plothole in his fantasies that Jon wouldn't know Martin was in love with him if Martin outright _said_ it.

But anything he'd gotten from Martin before pales in comparison to this. Not a fantasy, but a Friday night, dirtying his knees on a bathroom floor and imagining it's a handsome older man hissing swears through his teeth.

It's something he wouldn't have thought Martin capable of, admittedly.

It makes Martin, suddenly, _very_ interesting.

Elias watches him until he's done, the other man satisfied and gone before Martin finally takes his dick in hand and cums with an unbearably soft noise. He cleans himself up sluggishly, rinsing his mouth out and smiling to himself in the sink mirror when the bathroom remains empty, and Elias makes a mental note of the name glowing on the building once Martin leaves.

Elias isn't sure what he'll be doing with this information, but he already knows it's going to be _good_.


	3. some light can never be seen

Martin doesn't mean to gravitate back toward that club the next week. _Really_. It just happens. The atmosphere had been nice, drinks hadn't been terribly expensive, and... Yeah, alright, maybe he hasn't stopped thinking about what he did there. How much _fun_ it was, not worrying about his own feelings or his appearance and just making someone else feel good.

He doesn't have to wait very long for someone else to come into the bathroom. Martin's heart pounds as someone's nice shoes click across tile, and sure enough, they go into the other stall. 

There's no immediate sound of clothes being undone, so probably not there to actually _go_.

"Hello," Martin says softly, eyeing the shift of someone's legs in nice slacks through the hole. "Are you... Uh...?"

"Interested, yes," the man says in nearly a whisper. The voice almost sounds familiar, but he can't place why or who it sounds like. "Are you?" 

Martin swallows so loudly the man _must_ hear it.

"Yeah," he admits. His voice is already strained thinking about it; the slacks he can see _are_ nice, and it seems like he must be wearing a full three-piece suit. Someone rich, maybe. Powerful. The thought of whoever they are using _him_ is its own thrill. "Do you have a condom?"

Martin _did_ think ahead, brought a few in his pocket, but getting it on through the hole in the wall was difficult the last time — if the guy doesn't have one, Martin can pass it through for him.

"I do," he answers, voice still quiet.

Maybe someone famous? That could explain the nice suit and trying to hide his voice, but... No, if he's famous enough for even his voice to be recognizable, wouldn't he have been seen on the way into the bathroom?

He can let the questions haunt him later. There's the sound of a zipper, and Martin slides to his knees. If the man were to ask why, he'd just call himself eager, but the truth is that he likes watching — getting to see someone’s cock pulled out and stroked just for him, and letting himself imagine how good it's going to weigh on his tongue and make his jaw ache.

Martin enjoys the show longer than usual, too. The man takes his time, his fist squeezing slowly over himself as though he knows Martin is waiting for it and wants to test his patience. He hasn't put on the condom yet, and Martin gets to watch a bead of precum spill over a knuckle, wet his skin with more than the lewd lick he must have given his palm before he started.

"Come on," Martin finally whines. "Let me taste it."

There's a soft laugh on the other side that might be amused, might be mean, but Martin doesn't care. The man gives him what he wants and puts his cock through once he's got the condom on, and Martin doesn't waste a _second_.

He's thicker than the first man, and while the first man had been mostly still and let Martin do the work, it's as if the man tonight, the man in the suit, can read his mind; as soon as Martin's jaw is accustomed to the stretch again, he fucks his hips forward and shoves his cock further in, pressing into his throat. Martin forces himself to keep his head steady, wishing there was a hand in his hair to truly _force_ him, and lets the man in the suit do most of the work.

Martin's hand creeps between his legs. If he's only kneeling there, not having to coordinate much besides breathing when his throat isn't blocked, he may as well take his cock out, too.

As soon as he does, before he's even wrapped his fist around himself, the man in the suit speaks again.

"Are you touching yourself?" he asks, ever softly, and pulls his cock away so Martin can actually speak.

He groans at the loss, but nods against the wall.

"Is that a problem?" Martin asks, biting his lip to keep himself from continuing. 

"Not at all," the man replies. 

Martin can hear the smirk in his whisper, the _amusement_ from Martin being so eager for it. It sounds like permission, if nothing else.

Martin opens his mouth wide again and finally strokes over himself with a pleased noise. When the man in the suit presses his cock back in, Martin quickens his pace — he's going to cum before the man is done, he already knows.

"Are you really going to cum like that?" the man in the suit asks. "Just from a cock in your mouth?"

Shame flares in him, the _good_ kind, the one that makes his toes curl when someone calls him names or talks down to him, and the pleased noise he makes is surely answer enough.

"It’s a shame I can’t pull your hair and make you choke properly,” the man says casually. 

God, is it so obvious how much Martin wants that? If Martin were braver, he'd offer to come into the other stall and let him do it. Lace both hands into Martin’s hair, thread his fingers at the back of Martin’s neck, let the man to force him down and keep him there. 

Martin cums with the man's cock down his throat, choking and unable to breathe and having _never_ felt so good, and he's still gagging his way through it when the man in the suit cums, too. He can almost feel how badly the man wants him, wants his hands on him to open him and take him any way he could, and Martin's singular regret is that there's nothing for him to swallow.

There's tears in his eyes when the man pulls out of his mouth, overwhelmed and gag-induced but not in any way indicative of him having a bad time. Martin smears the back of his hand across his mouth to get any excess drool, and it's while he's looking down to put his cock away that he realizes what he's done.

"Oh, no," Martin says quietly. "Shit. Sorry, I… Your shoes."

He has to hold back a giggle because it's — it’s ridiculous, right? This man just fucked his mouth so good his voice will be gone for days, and Martin is concerned about the cum spattered over the toe of one of his nice leather shoes.

To his relief, there's a quiet laugh on the other side of the wall.

"Don't worry about it," he says. "Can't have fun without a little mess, can we?"

When Martin goes home and realizes he's also got cum dried over the knee of his own jeans, apparently proudly worn all the way home, he has to agree.


	4. see his stripes

It was only a matter of time before Martin returned to the bathroom.

He can hear Martin try not to think about it, and Sees when his mind wanders back to how good it felt to be used, and Elias can almost _taste_ the latex when it's all Martin can think about wanking in bed at night.

He considered approaching Martin in daylight, broach the subject by admitting he saw what Martin had done and offer himself to work out any sexual frustrations. It's laughable, of course — Martin would freeze, he'd flee, he'd avoid Elias for the rest of his natural life. Martin wants what Elias can give him, whether he knows it yet or not, but he'd never allow himself to get involved with his boss. 

Not on purpose, anyway. 

Timing it is easy. Martin slips out of the crowd to the men's room, and one count of three later, Elias gets to stroll in like a stranger.

It goes so smoothly. 

Despite the wall between them, Elias can still See every move Martin makes and Know how much he enjoys being someone’s anonymous fling — almost as much as he enjoys a soft voice talking to him, being nice, being _sweet_.

When Martin cums and spills himself over Elias’s shoes, he doubts Martin would be opposed to licking it off, but he doesn’t push his luck yet.


	5. hide in the sun

The man in the suit is never in the crowd when Martin is there, but as soon as he steps into the bathroom, the man follows within minutes, marked by the click of short heels.

It’s become a comfortable routine over the last few weeks, and this is the fifth time they’ve done this; he goes into one stall, the man in the suit follows into another, and then he gets to listen to this assumedly hot, assumedly older man quietly sweet-talk while Martin sucks him off.

Martin drools over his cock while he gets himself hard, and watches the condom roll on and fantasize about telling the man not to bother. Martin has developed a Pavlovian reaction to the sound of pants being unzipped at face level, and he might be embarrassed about it if he weren’t always so _very_ eager for it.

It’s routine.

It is _not_ routine for someone else to walk in.

Martin stills. It hasn’t happened the last few times they’ve been here, somehow, but now someone else is standing at one of the urinals just a few feet away from their stalls.

If he pulls off now, the wet noise will be obvious. It’s not like these things don’t _happen_ in places like this, but would this guy run and tell someone? Get Martin… What? Kicked out, arrested? Even in the best case scenario, someone uninvolved hears him gagging pleasantly around someone else’s cock, and it’s embarrassing for all of them.

The man in the suit doesn’t say or do anything, either, apparently content with letting Martin do whatever his panic brain decides on.

Martin doesn’t move, breathing as slowly and quietly as possible. Having the man in the suit so far down his throat becomes uncomfortable fast, bordering on painful, but Martin is determined not to make a sound until it’s safe. It’s only once the other person has finally left that Martin dares to pull away and gasp in air.

“Are you alright?” the man asks, less concern in his voice than amusement.

“Uh-huh.” Martin pants, not quite ready to talk yet. Despite the panic and discomfort and the _not_ pleasant aching at the back of his throat, he’s still stupidly hard. He’s not an — well, he _is_ an exhibitionist, but not with unknowing, unwilling participants.

"Don’t like people listening?" the man asks, a smirk in his voice. "Knowing you're enjoying yourself?"

Martin tries to make a dissenting noise in his throat, little more than a hum while he’s still trying to even out his heartbeat, but the man must hear the lie in it.

"Lovely," the man purrs. "You are _wasted_ in a place like this when you should be bent over for show somewhere _much_ nicer."

Martin imagines it almost against his will, the scene flooding his mind deliciously — him tied up, or tied down, spread open and loose for anyone who'd like to fuck him. Elevated up on a stage, maybe, for a _crowd_ , dozens of people all there to watch him be used and love it, cum or not cum at the mercy of whoever has their hands on him next. Instead of the vague silliness he might have felt thinking so many people could want him, even as a toy to be thrown away after, something about the way this man suggests it feels _genuine_ — if he had his way, he'd put Martin on display in some fancy sex club and show a hundred people, a _thousand_ , what they're missing out on by not fucking him themselves.

“That’s —” Martin starts, but his voice cracks down the middle and he has to swallow to clear it. “You’re flattering.”

The man on the other side laughs quietly, sounding solely fond rather than fond _and_ a little condescending.

“Do you want to continue?” the man asks.

God, _yeah_ , he does.


	6. no need to look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update day, sluts!

Elias is beginning to worry, a bit, that he’s in over his head.

Not in any major way, certainly not at risk of losing whatever game he’s playing for the two of them, just in that he’s enjoying his time with Martin a little too much. Much more than just toying with an employee, or playing mind games. Martin’s general neediness translates beautifully into intimacy, in the way he begs quietly to cum and mentally talks himself in circles for why he shouldn’t be meeting with ‘the man in the suit’ as much as he is.

He’d always found Martin cute, in that abandoned puppy way, but it’s getting difficult to communicate with him at work when he’s so distracted — a foreseen-but-ignored side effect of knowing how Martin’s mouth looks around his cock. Making eye contact means imagining Martin on his knees again, finally able to see Elias back, and then Elias has to make excuses for one reason or another why he needs to leave the room.

Martin chews the ends of pens. He licks things off his fingers when he’s on his lunch break. He smiles fondly at something and it makes Elias want to call Martin into his office and let the whole ruse crumble in favor of getting to _kiss_ him.

Martin is on his mind every waking hour, and most of the sleeping ones. This was supposed to be a _game_ , something fun to indulge in once in a while with neither of them the wiser, but Martin is… He is _something else_. Watching Martin apply chapstick from his office is one thing, but making note of what brand he’s using, the specific flavor? He should only be thinking about what Martin can do for him, not imagining licking the strawberry-vanilla taste off his own lips after kissing him.

Elias Sees the stranger approaching the bathroom long before the door opens — until tonight, he’s been careful to lock the door behind them, but he’s been toying with the idea of someone else walking in for a while.

He hadn’t imagined Martin would handle it so well. He panicked, sure, but no backpedalling, no shying away, no hesitation to continue once the stranger was gone. Martin _stays_ , keeps Elias’s cock in his mouth to gag him quiet, and the controlled, resolute breath against his skin had been like _heaven_.

Ultimately, Martin says he’d like to continue. They return to their regularly scheduled anonymous sex, as though nothing has happened, up until Elias hears Martin finally shuffle his own pants open to jerk himself off. The soft noise Martin makes around his cock warms him to his core, stumbles him to the finish line, and Elias allows himself a particularly loud breath in reward.

Martin _loves_ hearing his partners, Elias now included. He’d barely had to Look to find that one out, between the way every bit of Martin reacts to him in the bathroom and how he’s privately fantasized, in his own bed, about ‘the man in the suit’ losing his well-kept control and desperately asking for Martin’s name so he can moan it.

(Admittedly, Elias keeps it in mind.)


	7. jump, jump, jump

Martin ups the ante.

Blowing the man in the suit has been great. He gets used, the man enjoys himself, and Martin cums on the floor like an animal while he silently prays for more.

It leaves him aching.

It's shamefully _not_ the first time he's worn a plug in himself in public. Each time he’s told himself it’d be the last, because the adrenaline of it always has him sick by the end of the night, but each time, inevitably, he gets just desperate enough.

It’s better than asking a near-complete stranger to come into the other stall to fuck him and put him out of his misery, isn’t it? Resisting the urge is getting harder and harder, but he’s not _that_ desperate.

Not… Not yet.

He doesn’t mention it when the man blessedly taps his expensive footsteps into the other stall, content to keep his little secret while he sucks him off, until the man stops him.

The man’s foot slips under the wall between them, and Martin’s unsure why until the tip of his shoe nudges carefully up between his legs and sends a jolt up his spine.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whines, trying to close his legs and only jostling the plug in him again. “How did you —”

“— I’m observant,” the man purrs. “I’ve watched you walk in here enough times to notice your pace is off. All that begging for more gave me a good idea of what might have been bothering you tonight, and _look_ at _you_.”

He says it like he wouldn’t have expected Martin to go through with it, and Martin laughs breathlessly as he pushes at the plug through his jeans with more of a shove than a nudge.

“You could fuck me instead of being so smug about it,” Martin finds himself saying, despite his best efforts.

There’s a quiet laugh on the other side of the wall.

“Don’t you prefer your anonymity? I think coming over there and fucking you myself would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

Martin swallows thickly. He keeps barely rolling his heel to keep rocking the plug into Martin, against the sweetest little feelings in him, and it’s hard to think when he won’t let up.

“Sure, but we — we’re familiar enough with each other, aren’t we?” he tries to tease. Martin hopes the man in the suit can’t hear his hands grabbing uselessly at the wall as he tries and fails to ground himself with _anything_. “I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing the man that’s been giving me such a nice time.”

The man hums on the other side of the wall as though he’s considering it, but doesn’t address it again.

“Could you cum from this?” he asks curiously. “Just this?”

_God_. It’d be… It’d be nearly painful, leaving himself hard and untouched and letting the man in the suit practically _abuse_ him to the edge and over it. He considers denying it, laugh and lightheartedly tell him to fuck off.

“Yes,” Martin answers instead, “if you wanna make me, I’ll… I’d let you.”

“No touching yourself, mind,” he purrs, letting up on the pressure for a moment to get his leg in a more comfortable position. “Except to get your cock out now, please.”

It’s not a command, but permission for a question Martin hasn’t asked yet. He nods on his side of the wall — his clammy hands feel like ice as he fumbles himself out, but, as he’s been told, he only makes enough contact to keep his zip from digging into his skin when he lets his cock stand on its own.

“Wonderful,” the man breathes, then, with the edict back in his voice, “Thank you.”

“Mm,” Martin hums to acknowledge him. “Do you want me to keep sucking you off?”

“Not for now,” the man decides. “I’d prefer to hear you.”

That’s… A little nervewracking, especially since they’re still in public and they’ve already had such a close call before, but… 

“Can I move?” Martin asks, “on your — please?”

“Hm,” the man hums. “Can you?”

Martin groans at the bad joke, then groans for _real_ when the man shoves at the plug.

“May I?” Martin corrects.

The man relaxes his press, like he’s waiting to see if Martin will follow it anyway.

He’s never been lucky enough to experience this sort of thing himself, whatever _this_ is that the man is trying out on him, but Martin knows better than to fail a test that easy.

And, after a few hovering moments, the pleasantly surprised breath on the other side tells him he’s passed.

“ _Wonderful,_ ” the man repeats. “You are… Wonderful,” he breathes again. “Go on. You may.”

Martin gives himself a second while the shiver of _wonderful_ eases.

He does.


	8. the vision never dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> upped the final chapter count from 11 to 16 because uhhh we still got a couple places to go whoops

Elias is fully aware that he shouldn’t have let it go this far.

He leaves the building with Martin’s mess on him like a limp — he wipes off what he can, but every step he imagines moving too fast and some forgotten glob of cum slinging off his shoe like mud after a storm.

Martin had been divine. He’d sounded divine, _looked_ divine, letting his thighs ache terribly and fighting the urge to just touch himself and finish off. His eyes had gone unfocused like glass, all of his concentration on rutting himself down just the right way that the toe of Elias’s shoe rubs the plug into him _just_ the right way, and even once he’d shakily announced he was close, it took an additional eternity for him to actually spill over the edge.

Elias watches it all happen at the gap under the stalls and abusing his power to Behold to Know Martin at every angle, Know the clench in his muscles as he cums and See how his face distorts, twisted in pleasure _and_ squished against the cold wall.

He Knows how sore Martin’s cock is from cumming without being touched, and Elias can almost relate.

He softly tells Martin something about how good he is, biting his tongue when he wants to compliment Martin on how _delicious_ he’d looked when he should not know that, and he fumbles himself into a condom and through the hole in the wall and doesn’t do much more than let Martin breathe on him and stroke his cock while he comes down.

That’s all it takes, really, after Watching all of _that_

Elias insists Martin leave first, to make sure he can still walk himself to the tube without collapsing.

Truthfully, Elias needs the extra time to himself to glare at the semen spattered over his shoe, the ankle of his sock, the hem of his pant leg, and internally glare at himself for letting this get so out of hand.

He needs to back off.

He needs to make a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter may be a treat or a hell for you! i will add warnings accordingly!


	9. too long in the midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something a little odd this chapter: it is Not martin and elias. the fic is still, overall, martin/elias, but this chapter is not. depending on your investment in the martin/elias, you may or may not like this chapter??
> 
> next chapter will be posted sooner than usual and clarify a couple things, and the tags will be properly updated to reflect that, but u kno! Fair-ish Warning :^)

It’s a normal Wednesday night when the unthinkable happens.

Someone _other than_ the man in the suit goes into the other stall.

There’s a light knock on the wall between them, and Martin considers upping skirts and getting the hell out of there, but...

...But _why_ does he care?

It’s not like he’s seeing the man in the suit. For goodness’ sake, Martin doesn’t even know the other man’s _name_ , or what he looks like, or anything about him besides the shape of his cock and what one of his Oxfords feels like half-stepped on his own cock. It’s been coincidence that nobody else has come in while Martin’s there, even if he does leave right after the man in the suit most nights.

“Hello?” this one calls. “You there, love?”

Martin’s face goes warm.

“Hello,” he calls back gently, before he can stop himself. He’s got such a painfully obvious weakness for pet names, it’s ridiculous.

“Hello,” this man repeats. “Your voice sounds lovely. Are you interested in me fixing that for you?”

Martin’s face goes _hot_.

“You’re suggesting I blow you, correct?”

“I’m suggesting I could show the back of your throat a good time, sure,” this man laughs, hearty and deep like a foghorn.

He sounds crude, but maybe that’s what Martin needs right now. He spends too much time fantasizing about _the man in the suit_ , to the point that he’s been catching himself daydreaming about who it could be. He’s imagined almost every celebrity he can, half the handsome strangers he’s seen on the street, and he knows he’s run out of ideas when his brain suggests his _boss_ , Mr. Bouchard.

Ridiculous.

“Do you have a condom?” Martin asks.

“Of course,” this man says. “Never leave home without one.”

Martin makes a face to himself, but he can hear a zipper being undone and when this man presents himself through the hole like his dick is some kind of gift, he decides he might as well get his mind off the man in the suit for a while.


	10. been down too long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:^)
> 
> THIS CHAPTER **HAS SPOILERS** FOR SOME EPISODE 160 INFO! PLEASE BE AWARE OF THAT BEFORE GOING FORWARD. its very minor spoilers for something that most people saw coming anyway but Still

“Well?” Elias asks.

He couldn’t bring himself to look. He’d busied himself watching Jon waste his time trying to read a book and getting frustrated each time his vague guesses toward the plot ended up disturbingly accurate. He hasn’t Seen anything but Jon’s dusty flat for the last half hour, snapping his attention to every little tic of Jon’s when his mind wanders to _is he?_

“Do you want me to tell you what happened, or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?” Peter chirps from the other end, barely audible through the static. Asshole.

“Ha,” Elias says dryly. “Tell me what happened.”

“Did you really resist peeking?” Peter prods. “You do _know_ what he looks like on his knees, don’t you?”

“Peter.”

“ _Fine_ ,” his not-friend sighs. “I very politely offered him my knob, and he very politely sucked my cock.”

Elias lets out a breath he shouldn’t have been holding. Good. So Martin doesn’t consider them exclusive. Less mess that way, less sticky-sweet attachment to get clean of whenever the truth comes out.

...So _why_ isn’t that a comfort?

“Good,” he half-lies, maybe-tells-the-truth? “Thank you.”

Peter _guffaws_ on the other end.

“That’s it?” he laughs. “Jonah, you haven’t —”

“— It’s Elias —”

“— piss off. You haven’t taken a lover in _decades_ , and suddenly you’re concerned with some sweet assistant boy and whether yours is the only sausage he’s been stuffing?”

Elias wrinkles his nose. None of that is — his choice in words is as close to foul as Peter gets, and none of that is accurate, but more importantly, it isn’t Peter’s _business_.

“Are you done?” Elias snaps. “You owed me a favor, you’ve done me a favor. Goodbye, Peter.”

He hangs up before Peter can get another word in.

**Author's Note:**

> aaa!!! finally begins posting this after a year of putting it off lmao
> 
> i'm also [sandpapersnowman on tumblr](http://sandpapersnowman.tumblr.com/ao3land/)!, as well as lyric#8582 on discord! hmu!
> 
>  **8/6/20 EDIT:** i accidentally got my ass kicked into a different special interest, so i am going to cap this here for the time being! i do have other bits written and will likely come back around to make another part in this story (i've made a series by the same name if you want to subscribe there), but at the moment, my foreseeable future is a uhhh Bizarre Adventure lol
> 
> thank you everyone who's left comments and followed along as this was posted!!! i give yall free reign to write your own glory hole stranger elias/martin with this as a baseline lol, just let me know so i can read it too! there will be more to come here one day but until then, thank you all!! i had a lot of fun!!! <333


End file.
